


Moonlit Destiny

by Covenmouse



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Silver Millennium, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Multi, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22356988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Covenmouse/pseuds/Covenmouse
Summary: Alternate SilMil story based heavily on The Witcher series & plot.
Relationships: Hino Rei/Jadeite
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Moonlit Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh. This is for Charlie and BAMF, who wanted it the minute I mentioned it. I can't commit to any update pattern, as me FE3H fics come first, but... man this is fun. Wasn't sure how to tag this and I'll write a better summary later maybe. XD

At twelve-years-old Princess Serena of Cynthia wanted for only two things in this world: all the mazurek she could eat, and fighting lessons. At this point, she barely cared what sort; she’d have even settled for archery, which courtiers swore was a very “ladylike” sort of hobby, if it meant she could learn something fun for once. 

Serena wasn’t normally one for studies. Her inability to pay attention or care about silly things like penmanship and mathematics had driven many a tutor to drink over these past few years, and more than a few to quit outright. Every time another tutor handed over their resignation, Artemis would sigh and grouse, exactly as he had a moment ago, “At this rate, I think you’ll burn through every educated mind in Cynthia before you’ve mastered the Elder Tongue, Little Lioness.”

“Why should I need to learn Elder? The Elves are all gone to their mountains, now. Not like Grandmother would ever let me meet them.” 

“The Royal Line of Cynthia all speak Elder. It is your birthright.” 

“Then shouldn’t I be learning swordplay, too? Grandmother was a warrior, and Great-Grandfather before her. I’m the heir. That’s in my birthright just as much as some dusty old language.”

“Cynthia is a nation of peace. What use would you ever have swords,” Artemis asked, in the peculiar tone she’d come to recognize as the one he used only when quoting an edict of her grandmother’s; particularly ones he didn’t much like. Not that he would ever admit as much. She’d tried, more times than she could count, to get the old sorcerer to side with her on these matters. It was no use. He was her grandmother’s creature, through and through. 

“We weren’t always.”

“And what would you know of that? You sleep through all your history lessons.”

“Not the ones with fighting,” she told him, completely unashamed of having slept through the rest. “Grandmother was my age when she drove the Elven invaders from our lands. She had to learn to fight for that. What would happen if they invaded again?”

“If you were really paying attention, you would know how unlikely that is.”

“Why? They did it once.”

“Circumstances have changed somewhat,” Artemis insisted. “But we aren’t on history today. Today is geography.”

Serena groaned and slumped back in her chair so hard it nearly toppled over. “Who  _ cares _ about stupid old geography? I can look out the window and see there’s mountains and sea as well as anyone.”

“Ah,” said the sorcerer as he produced a map and splayed it across the table between them, “Tell me, what do you see, here?”

The legs of Serena’s chair hit the floor with a clatter. She stared at her teacher, feeling a trick in the air but not quite certain what it was, “A map.”

“True. A map of what?”

Rolling her eyes, Serena heaved a sigh and tipped her chair forward on its front legs as she looked over the drawing. 

“There’s a town on it. Against a river. Why is this important? I thought geography was about continents and stuff.”

“Continents are a part of it, and we’ll get to that, but smaller, local terrain is a part of geography. A very important part, at times.” Artemis dumped a bag of painted wood figurines on the table and began to arrange them around the map. Before Serena he set a small collection of calvary, melee, and ranged units, and then another, similarly sized force on the opposing end—closer toward himself. 

Serena’s piercing blue eyes flickered between him and the map, a little unsure as a suspicion began to dawn. “What do we need these for? Is this a game?”

“Some would call it such.”

“But not you.”

“No, Princess. War is never a game.” He pulled a chair up opposite her and gestured to ‘her’ forces. “Arrange them, as you would were you defending your town, there.”

Serena’s brow scrunched. She looked between the groups, then at the map again. There was a town, yes; a sprawling nest of squiggly lines meant to represent houses and walls. The arrangement was both familiar and alien to her, like meeting a distaff cousin after several years apart. To the north and west of the town was a wide section labeled “Inner Sea,” and to the east were jagged lines forming odd loops that splintered and shrunk as they moved inward. She wasn’t certain what to make of that at all. 

Finally, nestled in-between the three, was a wide, more-or-less empty space but for a tiny, tick-marked pattern like little blossoms. It was across this space that the two armies faced one another.

Shrugging to herself, Serena grabbed one of the cavalry units and moved it east.

Artemis made a soft ‘tutting’ noise. She paused, mid-movement, and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why not? Calvary is for flanking. They need to go around.”

“That’s true,” he said, “But how well do horses climb?”

Her brow scrunched. Serena gave the map another long look, before slowly extending one slender, unblemished finger—so different from her grandmother’s knotty, sword calloused ones—and traced a line across the eatern edge of the map. “These are the mountains, aren’t they? This—This is Cynthia!”

“Well done.”

“But where are the walls? The moat? The market district isn’t even here, its—” Again, she paused, her head cocking to one side. “This isn’t Cynthia  _ now _ , is it?”

“ _ Very _ well done,” Artemis agreed. “This is the battlemap your great-great-something-great-grandfather used when he defended Cynthia from the Terran Empire a hundred-and-fifty years ago. Do you recall how that battle was won?”

“Yes, I—”

“Don’t tell me,” He said, beginning to arrange his pieces. “Show me. And then, when this is done, I have a different map for you. We’re going to try again—with new geography. Do you understand?” 

Serena did. 

###  #

Queen Selene listened to her granddaughter’s animated report of that day’s lessons with all the enthusiasm of a parent confronted with a new pet scorpion. She smiled over Serena’s embellished recountings of imagined battles—complete with death tallies and punishments for prisoners of war—and peppered in appropriate small talk when it seemed desired, all while polishing off a rather large bottle of Statorian whiskey. By the time Serena bundled herself off to bed, Selene had uncorked the second. 

“Everyone can get the fuck out,” she announced evenly to the small collection of guards and courtiers still lingering in the sitting room. As the others immediately moved for the door, her gaze fell upon the white-haired sorcerer sitting upon her couch. He hadn’t moved. Still, she added, “Everyone but you.”

“Are the theatrics really necessary,” Artemis asked as soon as the doors were shut.

“I’ll decide what’s necessary here, thank you.” She fell back into her armchair with a heavy sigh, then dropped her feet upon the table with equal ceremony. “Did I, or did I not, expressly forbid you from filling her head with tales of war?”

“My Queen—”

“That is not a ‘ _ My Queen _ ’ sort of question, Sorcerer. I know your lot consider yourselves above such petty things as monarchs and oaths of honor, but when I agreed to let you stay within my walls—to study  _ my _ children—you agreed to follow my orders as my vassal. Is this, or is this not true?”

The man—the creature, Queen Selene reminded herself, for he was only vaguely more human than the vermin she’d run out of her kingdom thirty years ago—regarded her with that cool, impenetrable stare she’d come to expect. 

How many monarchs had he stared at with such insolence, she wondered. How many more would he quietly disrespect, long after she’d been laid to rest?

When they met, shortly before her daughter’s unfortunate wedding, Artemis had appeared of her own age; late thirties, for all his head of silver-grey hair. He had a handsome set to his clean shaven chin, and a broad, sarcastic smile which promised mischief for those willing to seek it. Mindful as she was of her tenuous place upon her late husband’s throne, Selene had sought it many a time. Sought it, again and again, until the sorcerer’s unchanging features next to hers in the mirror became too discordant to bear. 

He hadn’t seemed to mind when she quietly stopped issuing invitations to her bed; hadn’t even bothered to ask her why. Perhaps he knew. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. Whatever the answer, he clearly still believed himself enough in her good graces to flaunt her authority to her face.

Damn him, he was right, though. But even an old lover’s affections had limits.

“It won’t always be peacetime,” said Artemis.

“This is not a negotiation,” Selene snapped. “I am your Queen.”

Artemis sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Yes, and as your vassal I am trying to help you.” 

“By committing treason?”

“Treason—!” He scoffed, rising to his feet to pace away from her. Selene almost went after him, but Artemis was not going for the door. He turned back to her, bracing both hands on the back of the couch he’d abandoned, and met her gaze again. “Your granddaughter is Destined to be a warrior, much as her parents—”

Selene’s fingers clenched around her glass; liquid sloshing. “You will not mention Destiny to me—”

“—were meant to be together. You saw that, clear as everyone that night. You saw what came of attempting to deny it!”

“I saw a  _ child _ with powers beyond her ken who would doom the world for the sake of love.” Selene surged to her own feet, slinging her glass at the fire without care for how it shattered against the brick; the liquor sizzling upon the hearth. “I went along with your assertions of ‘Destiny’ because it was the only thing keeping the rest of the continent from trying to rip us apart when my daughter handed the throne of Cynthia over to a  _ monster _ .”

“We’ve been over this Selene. Darian was cursed, not a monster.”

“I saw no difference. Not then, and not when his foolishness got my daughter killed.”

Artemis’ face went cold as he regarded her. “And what of the girl, then? She’s half his blood. Is she, too, a monster?”

A shudder ran through Selene from scalp to toenails; the same sort of excited anticipation she felt with an army at her back and hot blood splattered down her sword. “Do not think I won’t strike you down where you stand, Sorcerer.”

“I have never forgotten that. You  _ are  _ the Peacebringer.” 

Selene swallowed back the rising rage; calmed her fingers which twitched for her sword. It wasn’t at her side; wasn’t in this room. She’d given up carrying one when she declared the wars over and done. How she regretted that decision some days. 

“Serena is her mother’s daughter,” Selene said once she trusted her voice to stand firm against his unwavering, unbothered countenance, “I would it were not so, but I have eyes. I will not make the same mistake with her that I made with Serenity.”

“No. You’re making all new ones.”

“How dare you—”

“I dare because I love you.” Quickly, he circled the couch and closed the distance between them to grab her by the arms arms as no man since her late husband had dared. “I love both of you. I know she looks like Serenity, but dammit, Selene. That girl is  _ your blood _ , through and through. If you would just look past her hair and eyes for a second you—”

A frantic beating at the door stopped him short. They each looked, listening for a heartbeat as the knocking continued, before Artemis let Selene go. He stepped back a pace, resuming his guise as a dutiful courtier.

Selene eyed him a moment, instincts warring. One screamed at her to have him drug to the dungeons for his insolence. The other said that he was right; she knew he was right, and it was only her own arrogance that kept her from agreeing. Still another reminded her that hammering upon her sitting room door was never a good sign, particularly at this hour. 

It was the last which won out in the end. Selene turned her glower from her ex-lover to the door, bellowing, “Oh, get in here already!”

From the door spilled a panting herald in travel-stained livery. The man dropped to a wobbling knee, one fist pressed over his heart and his other hand upon his knee for support. 

“Your grace,” he gasped, “I have news from the East. Terra is on the march.”

“Border skirmishes,” she said in a small, almost hopeful voice. “Again?”

“I beg your graces’ pardon,” the Herald whispered, “But not skirmishes. We counted at least ten thousand strong when they stormed our border. They’ll be here by week’s end.” 

All the heat fled the room at once; no matter the fire still burning in the hearth. “How?”

“That isn’t possible,” Artemis said at the same time, “We have alerts in place.”

The herald shook his head. “There was magic involved. A force that large—we didn’t see them coming. Not until they were almost on us. The General sent a troop ahead with me to take out the pass after I got through, in hopes of slowing them down, but I don’t know that it worked.”

Selene swallowed her first response, then her second. She cut a glance at Artemis, half expecting scorn or bemusement. All she found was sadness reflected in his pale, full-moon eyes. He didn’t have to say what he was thinking. She knew, and in that moment thought how easy it would be to hate him. 

“Find me a page, then take your rest. You’ve done well,” she said by rote. The herald jumped to his feet, executing a quick bow before taking his leave. 

Once the door was again closed, Selene sank upon the couch and knotted her hands upon her lap. 

“How did we not see this coming? They were consolidating the southern isles, I knew, but…” She takes a deep breath. “The Brotherhood said nothing.” 

“If I’d been given any warning, I would have told you.”

“All your talk of training Serena to war, and you expect me to believe your lot doesn't have a hand in this? It’s no small secret that you have ear in every court on the continent.”

“Every court but  _ yours _ . You wouldn’t have me so long as my allegiance laid with them. Those were your words, Selene. Your decision,” he shot back, a note of annoyance hitting his voice once more. 

Artemis turned, dropping to sit upon the low table before her. His hands grasped hers, as soft and warm as hers were not, and when Selene met his eyes she found she had trouble looking away. “Let me call him. Please. He can protect her. Until this is over, at the very least.”

“Is that what this has all been about?” She yanked her hands from his, the spell broken with that damning suggestion. “You wait until you think you have me against a wall, and bring  _ him _ back into this?”

She stood up, striding over to the fireplace in hopes of reclaiming some of it’s warmth. Back to him, she growled, “I will  _ not _ hand my grand-daughter over to a mutant, Artemis.”

“Not even to save her life?”

“She is perfectly safe here! We have pushed Terra back before. We will do it again.”

“And if you’re wrong? What then? Why not at least entertain the idea? Serenity is gone. Serena is the only heir to the throne of Cynthia. If the Witcher can save her; can  _ teach  _ her what lessons you neglected, then why not—”

“And allow him to turn her into a monster, too? Am I to taint every child of my bloodline with inhuman filth? Is that it will take to make you happy?” 

“Not  _ me _ ,” Artemis insisted, “Destiny.”

Slowly, Selene turned from the fire to face him. This time, when he saw her expression, Artemis was wise enough to step away. 

“If I ever cared what Destiny said I would have handed my throne over to my incestuous bastard of an uncle the moment my father died. If I  _ cared _ what Destiny thought, I would have wed one of the hundred suitors who attended my husband’s funeral, horny for want of my crown. If I gave a single, sizzling  _ shit _ about what Destiny had planned this entire kingdom would have been overrun by any one of our neighbors who thought they, surely, could face the Lioness of Cynthia in battle because she’s just a  _ girl _ .”

Chest heaving, Selene straightened her back and shoulders and stared down yet another ex-lover who thought he knew what was best for her, and her family. Perhaps he had a point. She should have trained Serena to battle long ago. And she would start training her, just as soon as this war was over. But until then…

“Fuck Destiny,” Selene spat. “In Cynthia, we make our own way.” 


End file.
